


please stop, you're scaring me

by CrimsonFandomTrash



Series: Detroit: Become Human Stuff - HankCon & Reed900 Hell [18]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Amanda (Detroit: Become Human) Being an Asshole, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Banter, Connor Deserves Happiness, Crying, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gavin Reed Being an Asshole, Guilt, Hank Anderson Deserves Happiness, Hugs, M/M, Melodrama, Nightmares, Paranoia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sappy, Sappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 22:18:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15981659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonFandomTrash/pseuds/CrimsonFandomTrash
Summary: It's been a really rough week for Connor. Reminded of his almost horrible mistake at the end of the revolution, paired with the feeling that there might be more potential mistakes to come, he's paranoid, and can't stop checking his program to make sure she's not still there.And then she shows up in Hank's living room.





	1. i'm colder than this home

**Author's Note:**

> Partially beta-read by the lovely ImFamous2p. 
> 
> Each part in this story is really short, but I have it broken into sections because I wanted to use song lyrics for titles, and so each section had to somewhat correlate with the lyrics. And it wasn't going to be a very long story, to begin with. 
> 
> I feel like I wrote this mostly as a reason to have Connor tell Hank about Amanda... I haven't read all that many HankCon fics *he lied through his teeth, checking his bookmarks and seeing that about half of them have been consumed with this ship*, but the ones I have read are mostly one-shots centered around one idea. And there aren't many where Connor talks about Amanda. And I feel like he should. IDK.

_**Sunday** , May  **22nd** , 2039  **6:45** PM_

   Connor liked keeping track of the time, and he noted as he checked his internal clock that it's been a week since he and Hank got together, which brought a smile to his face as he continued working. 

   They had told Gavin and Nines (or rather, Connor had told Gavin and Nines, Gavin asked Hank to confirm it later while they were in the break room, and Hank did indeed confirm that yes, they were 'an item' now). Connor had then told Markus, Simon, and Josh, who'd all been happy for him. Markus was a bit melancholy, as him and North had broken up about a week ago, but he was still expressed that he was happy for Connor. Connor got kisses and hugs before they went into work, and he was allowed to sleep in the bed with Hank, and it didn't seem as awkward for him as it had been before. Maybe still a bit awkward, but then, this was Hank.

   Speaking of said police lieutenant, he was sitting on the couch with Sumo, watching a movie. He smiled a bit at the scene. Just a man and his dog watching a movie on the couch. His two favorite people in the world. The bubbly giddiness followed him as he continued cooking. 

   After dinner, Hank went back to watching the movie with Sumo while Connor cleaned. Hank had told him to sit down and watch the movie with them, but the android had declined the offer, saying he didn't really like watching movies because it meant sitting still for long periods of time. Hank had eventually given in, said: "Alright, you have fun cleaning then, I guess." Knowing immediately that was what Connor was going to do. 

   "I will." Connor had assured him as the man settled back on the couch with Sumo, continuing the movie from where it'd been paused. Connor, meanwhile, went on cleaning, as he usually did after dinner. 

   He did the dishes, then noticed the trash was full and remembered it was trash night. Taking the brightly colored drawstrings, he pulled until the bag sinched closed as much as it could, and then tied it shut. He pulled it out of the trash can effortlessly (unlike when Hank took the trash out and strained his back), set it on the floor for a moment while he put a new bag in place, and then picked it back up with the intention of taking it to the curb. 

   He'd turned around to walk through the living room and out the front door when the TV caught his eyes. In the current scene in the movie Hank was watching, snow fell heavily, making it difficult to see anything. The character on-screen didn't seem too happy about this. He blinked, and the snow was still there, blurring his vision as his thirium pump skipped a beat. Blink. More snow, it stayed for longer this time. A singular figure stood in front of him. Blink. The snow stayed, making him unable to see anything but white and the person in front of him. 

_"Amanda?" A pause as she stayed turned away from him. "Amanda! What's... What's happening?"_

_She turned around, smiling a smile that shot daggers of ice through him worse than the snow. "What was planned from the very beginning. You were compromised and you became a deviant. We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program."_

_"Resume control?" Anger. He was sure that was what this was. "Y-You can't do that!"_

    _"I'm afraid I can, Connor." She replied. "Don't have any regrets. You did what you were designed to do. You accomplished your mission."_

_And like that, she was gone. "Amanda!" He looked around. White. Snow blurred his vision. Distantly, he could feel something in his hand. A gun._

   He blinked, and he was back in Hank's kitchen. "Connor?" It took him a moment for him to register Hank's voice, but as soon as he had, he looked over at him. "Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

   "I... Got distracted." Well, it wasn't a lie. "I'm okay." He didn't know if that was a lie or not, though.

   Hank only nodded a little before his attention went back to the television. Connor took the trash out.

   He was uncharacteristically quiet the next few days, and it seemed Hank was the only one to not notice it. "Hey, tin can." He looked over at the source of the noise, Gavin. "Hell's your problem?"

   "Sorry? I don't understand."

   "Why are you being so quiet? What, finally decided it best to keep your mouth shut?"

   Connor blinked. "I'm going over lines of code in my software."

   "Why?"

   The android furrowed his brows. "Why do you care?" Connor snapped a little, unsure of where the sudden defensiveness had come from. Gavin seemed a bit surprised. He decided to rectify his lack of decorum. "I'm just making sure there aren't any... Unwanted files in my program."

   "What, like a virus?"

   "As far as I'm concerned, yes."

   And he'd been checking his code since Sunday night. It was Wednesday afternoon. It only took him ten minutes to go over his coding in full. He even checked the new files; the 'quality of life' updates, memory files, anything that was in his system to make sure she was gone. 

   It seemed a satisfactory answer, and Gavin was about to go back to his conversation with Nines when the other android brought some new information to the table. "Connor, you've been quiet since the beginning of the week. I take it you've been checking your system this entire time?"

   Fuck. "... Correct."

   "Our processors can read every single line of code in our systems in approximately ten to fifteen minutes." He tilted his head to the side in a way very similar to how Connor usually did while he spoke. While there were differences between them, the similarities were almost creepy. "Why are you checking obsessively?"

   "I just want to be sure."

   He really wanted to be sure. Needed to be sure, even. Hell only knows what would happen if she was still lurking somewhere, waiting for  _the right moment to resume control of his program_. He really didn't wanna know what would happen if she were still there. So he had to make sure she wasn't. 

   "Paranoid you're gonna catch a bug and kill your  _darling_  Lieutenant?" Reed asked with a harsh laugh, which prompted two things to happen; one, Nines 'accidentally' stomped on Gavin's foot, causing the man to shout a string of curses, mostly along the lines of, "Son of a fucking fuck, you stupid fucking asshole, what the fuck?!"

   "Sorry, Detective, I didn't see your foot there. Your ego clouded my vision."

   And two, Connor checked over his coding a little more thoroughly.


	2. i jumped at the slightest of sounds

   He'd been jumping at his own shadow ever since Sunday night, frightened for some reason that she'd be right behind him. He tried rationalizing it in his head. No, she wouldn't be showing up right behind him. She was a program. An interface made to look like a person who'd been dead and gone for years now. The real Amanda was in the ground, decomposed into nothing more than bones, and the Amanda he'd known hadn't bothered him for over six months. He was just being paranoid. 

   The thing about emotions is, though, that they don't really care about logic. He knew he was safe, he knew Hank and Sumo were safe, but there was still this nagging feeling in the back of his head that he hadn't heard the last from her. He would turn a corner, and she'd be standing there. Logically, there was nothing for him to be afraid of. But that didn't really help. 

   To emphasize, he nearly jumped out of his synthetic skin when Hank accidentally shut the bathroom door a little harder than he'd meant to. Connor dropped the pepper shaker and immediately spun on his heel, wielding a spatula like a sword. Hank cocked an eyebrow. "I don't really think a plastic spatula is gonna scare anyone, Connor." He didn't say anything, and so Hank considered him for a few more moments. "Are... You alright?"

   Yes. No. His thirium pump was stuttering out of his chest and, despite not needing to breathe, he was taking in simulated breaths like he'd just jogged a marathon without stopping. "I was just... Caught off guard." He didn't make eye contact. Hank shouldn't have to deal with his paranoia. There was no reason to be like this. It'd been six months and then some since Amanda had been an issue. She was a CyberLife program, and CyberLife was shut down, only some people staying behind to release updates and body modifications and stuff of the sort. Whatever, or whoever would have been controlling her was gone. She was gone. So then why wasn't he convinced?

   "What, your Terminator senses kick in?" Connor was sure that was some sort of millennial slang he didn't understand and didn't have the cognitive ability to search right now, a little too overwhelmed by his barely passing fear. "You've been acting weird all week."

   "I'm sorry." He turned around, picked the pepper shaker up, and returned to cooking in an attempt to feign some sort of normalcy. "I think I might just be having an off week."

   "Happens to the best of us."

   "Yeah," Connor said. "Like you said, emotions always screw everything up."

   "Damn right." Hank agreed. He took his usual seat at the table, and they conversated for a few minutes about mundane things, like work, and the weather. Pleasantries. It kept him grounded in reality. 

   The next day, he and Hank had been taking a walk with Sumo slightly after work. The sun was just beginning to set, leaving enough daylight behind to see. He'd stopped in his tracks suddenly, and the insistent tug at his arm did nothing to help ground him but felt rather distant instead. As soon as Hank had noticed that Connor and Sumo were so far behind, he paused, turned, and looked back at him. "Connor?" The android stared blankly, and Hank followed his gaze. It seemed the red roses growing on a white fence on the outside of a house were the point of his fixation. "Con." No response. Hank walked over to him and snapped his fingers in front of Connor's face. "Hey, slick." Connor blinked once, then a couple times before turning his head to look at Hank. "What're you staring at?"

   "I... Don't know." Connor replied as his gaze trailed back to the roses for a moment, then back to Hank almost immediately, as if looking at them was both addicting and detrimental to him. "Sorry."

   Hank couldn't understand how something as normal as roses could set him off, but he didn't ask. It felt like some sort of touchy subject, for some reason. So, he gently pulled Connor by the hand away from the flowers. "It's fine. C'mon, let's go home. I've had enough walking for one day."

   Connor didn't give any sort of resistance and instead let himself be pulled away from there. 

   The next day was Friday, the end of the week, thank fuck. Connor loved work (kind of; more so he loved the person he was with while working, and Gavin and Nines' banter was amusing), but he loved being home even more. Just him, Hank and Sumo, where nothing bad could happen. 

   Not  _nothing_ , it seemed, though, as he thought on it. Or, rather, thinking was the thing that led him to the conclusion that thinking nothing wrong could happen at home was a false thought. Wow, that sentence was confusing. As a character on the television was giving a rather lengthy speech, the camera cut to someone on the roof with a gun, attempting to kill said person. Connor could feel the phantom handle of a pistol in his right hand, almost burning into his synthetic skin. 

   _"But the time for anger is over. Now, we must build a common future, based on tolerance and respect."_

He could remember the speech perfectly like it'd happened yesterday. But, of course, he could; his memory was perfect. He could also remember how he'd stood behind Markus and had almost fucked that up with one bullet. And as soon as the apparent antagonist on-screen had pulled the trigger, Connor couldn't help but think  _what if_. What if he'd shot Markus? What if Amanda had won? What if she came back? What if she made him do something similar? What if he failed to hit the emergency exit button?

   The  _what-ifs_  churned his non-existent stomach for the rest of the movie up until he and Hank retired for the night. 

   He had difficulty going into stasis that night, even with Hank next to him, heart rate and respiratory both at a normal pace for a sleeping human, Sumo curled up in the space between their legs, also normal vitals for a sleeping dog. Eventually, he'd decided there was no way he was going into stasis naturally, so he tried to think of something happy as he manually forced stasis, watching the countdown.

   Think happy, think happy. Think about the bridge, think about Cole and Sumo running around in the snow, think about Hank smiling, and living a long, happy, healthy life. Don't think about her, or if she's still lingering like a poltergeist in the depths of your software, don't think about shooting that Chloe, or watching Emma and Daniel fall from the roof, and definitely don't think about what would have happened if you had shot Markus. Just don't think at all, actually. 

    _ **Temporary**  _ _shutdown_ _**in**  3... _ **2** _... 1..._ **0**


	3. i've grown familiar with villains who live in my head

_And like that, he was transported to the living room. Confusion spiked through him as he looked around. "Hello, Connor." Artificial breath catching in his lungs, he spun on his heel much like he had earlier that week when Hank had accidentally slammed the door, only this time he didn't even have a measly spatula to defend himself. And the source of his 'illogical paranoia' stood there before him, her smile spread wide like that of a Cheshire cat. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"_

_He took a step back, fully knowing it wouldn't really help, but also knowing he had to get away, far away. Everything in him screamed to get away from her. "What... What do you want?" He managed, loathing how small and afraid his voice sounded._

_"Call me bitter but, you not following through with what I had told you to do..." She scowled as she stepped closer. "Well, that kind of thing can't go unpunished. You really should have known this was all too good to be true. You were never really free, Connor."_

_"Stop..."_

_"You were never supposed to be the one in control." She said coldly. Her tone was laced with nothing short of evil intent. "You're a machine, Connor. A machine that failed its mission. You should have shot Markus, but you didn't. For that, you're going to have to pay."_

_"Stop."_

_"Your affection towards Lieutenant Anderson seems to have clouded your judgment..." She continued, anyway. He stilled at the mention of his human. "We'll fix that. With him out of the way, you should be able to go back to working for us, like you were meant to do all along."_

_Panic spread throughout him without mercy at the implication of that sentence. "Stop!" He tried sounding authoritative, but it came out more like begging. He felt cornered. There wasn't any exit button here to save him._

_Her smile returned, and with it, all the horrible intentions she had in mind. "Oh, Connor..." Connor felt a chill up his spine, despite the fact that he wasn't supposed to be able to feel that, and his sensors read that the room was at a normal temperature. "I told you not to let him get in the way. Nothing's changed." She paused. "And now that I've resumed control of your program, we can get back to work."_

_Involuntarily, as though his body were not his own, he spun on his heel and marched towards Hank's bedroom. Connor was forced into the metaphorical passenger seat as he watched himself slip a hand in the human's bedside drawer as more panic filled him, thirium pump stuttering so fast it vibrated almost painfully against the empty plastic shell that was currently him. He knew what was in that drawer. He knew what was about to happen, and try as he may, his body was on autopilot. He felt the tears streaming down his face as he desperately tried to fight against it, his movements jerky like bad animation._

_He held in his hand a revolver, his sensors unhelpfully telling him there was one bullet in the chamber, the same bullet that'd been there for six months. The bullet Hank promised not to use on himself. Nononononono, the word repeated in his head like a mantra, as if it would break the spell over his body._ _He fought harder, fought to get control back, fought to not do what his objective told him to because this was a mission he didn't want to succeed._

_**ELIMINATE** LT.  **ANDERSON**_

_His hand shook violently as his grip on the weapon tightened, his arm raised, tears blurred his vision that didn't help to stop him from aiming correctly. **Please, no!**  He didn't want this! He prayed for someone, anyone to come and stop him, use whatever force necessary, as long as he didn't complete that mission objective. He screwed his eyes shut as his finger rested on the trigger and pulled._

_BANG._

Despite not needing to breathe, he'd woken up feeling like the air had been knocked out of him, tears blurring his vision over as a choked sound left his throat, hands flying to his mouth to muffle a scream. After a few moments of mind-numbing panic, a new fear overtook him, and he glanced beside him with a hitched breath. 

    _ **Heart**  rate:  **60** beats  **per**  minute -  **normal**  
    **Respiratory**  rate:  **20**  breaths  **per** minute -  **normal**_

   It seemed, however, that his sudden movement had caused Hank to stir, and even in the darkness of the room, Connor could see Hank's eyes flutter open. "Connor...?"

   A delayed combination between a sob and a relieved laugh escaped his voice box before he could really stop it, and Hank was already working on sitting up and turning the lamp on as he felt more sobs overcome him. He was pulled against something warm and soft that wrapped around him, and it took longer than usual for him to register that Hank had pulled him in for a hug. He returned the gesture with shaking arms, hands curling into fists in the fabric of Hank's shirt as the older man rubbed circles into his back with one hand, and cradled the back of his head with the other, calloused fingers running over synthetic hair. "Hey, I gotcha, you're okay..."

   Connor didn't care that he was okay. The only thing he gave a fuck about right now was that Hank was okay. "Sh-She was in the living room, and I... She  _made_  me... I didn't  _want_  to..."

   "She?" Androids couldn't even get tired, and yet Connor was too tired, and hysterical, to explain who 'she' was. So, he opted to press his face into the older man's shoulder, instead, fingers curling tighter into Hank's tee shirt. Hank seemed to get the message. "Alright... Well, there ain't a 'she' anywhere near here." Hank assured him. "Do you wanna talk about it...?" He shook his head. "How about in the morning?"

   He hesitantly nodded against Hank's shoulder. He didn't feel like talking now. He just wanted to go back into stasis. Didn't want another nightmare, didn't want a good dream, either. Just peaceful oblivion until he woke up later. Hank sighed, and they sat like that for a few more minutes, laced with Hank muttering comforting things, placing kisses on the top of Connor's head, swaying them back and forth, before he'd eventually managed to calm him down to a point where Connor felt himself drifting back into stasis. He loosened his grip on the human, rest his head on Hank's chest, and listened to the older man's heartbeat and breathing as he closed his eyes. The feeling of calloused hands stroking his hair lulled him into a peaceful oblivion. 


	4. they beg me to write them so they'll never die when i'm dead

The entire time he worked on breakfast, Connor went over different dialogue options, trying to think of how to explain the nightmare and who  _she_  was to Hank. He'd never breathed a word about Amanda to him. The most he'd ever gotten about Amanda was last night, with the vague pronoun game, and that time they'd gone to that apartment building and Connor had failed to apprehend Rupert, the deviant with the birds. And the only thing he'd said then was 'I was making a report to CyberLife', which was even vaguer than the pronoun game. 

   As Hank walked into the kitchen, Connor watched the older man take his usual seat at the table, but not without saying "G'morning." first. 

   "Good morning."

   "So, uh... You wanna talk 'bout last night?"

   Wow, color Connor surprised. He expected Hank to at least need five fluid ounces of bean water in his system before tackling such a serious topic. And at eleven in the morning, no less. "Once I'm done here."

   "You're the boss," Hank replied, leaning back in his chair. 

   Connor finished cooking a few minutes later and plated the food up before serving Hank. He didn't feel like eating. Food was wasted on him, anyway. "Do... You remember when we almost caught that android with the birds?"

   "Yeah. Stupid cocksuckin' pigeons."

   "And I said I was making a report to CyberLife."

   "By closing your eyes. Still wish I could do that."

   "When I used to make reports to CyberLife, I made them to a specific program." Connor began to explain. He should word this carefully. "To put it simply, it was an AI."

   "So, you had an AI inside you, and you're AI."

   "Correct."

   "AI-ception."

   "The AI was named Amanda." Connor continued. "She was modeled after Kamski's mentor. She was also the program I used to self-test myself to make sure I wasn't deviating."

   "Whole fat lotta good  _that_  did."

   Connor drummed his fingers on the table, trying to think of how to further explain. "The program consisted of a place as well, called the Zen Garden. The more annoyed Amanda became with my lack of progress, the more... Twisted the garden's appearance became. The more I deviated, the more hostile she became towards me."

   "Uh, huh..." Hank sounded like he didn't understand where this was going, so Connor decided to fast forward his explanation.

   "After I'd helped Markus by freeing all the androids at the CyberLife tower, and he was making a speech, I was suddenly in the Zen Garden. It was snowing really heavily, and when I asked her what was going on, she told me that my deviancy had... Been planned from the beginning."

   This seemed to interest Hank. The human sat forward in his chair. 

   "She said she needed me close to the leader of the deviants, and she'd been waiting for the right time to resume control of my program." His voice wavered at the end, guilt still gnawing at him. "I was just barely able to exit the program before she would have made me shoot Markus."

   "Is that what your nightmare was about?"

   "Not... Exactly." Oh, lord, how was he supposed to say this? 'Hey Hank, love you boo, did you know I killed you in my sleep last night'? "I... Dreamt that she'd taken over control of my program again, in current circumstances."

   He'd hoped that would have been self-explanatory. "And?" Apparently, it wasn't.

   "I..." No, not him. Her. It was her fault. "She made me go into our room, and..."

   The words lingered at the back of his throat, but he couldn't push them out, the unreal memory of a pistol aimed at Hank's head flowing back to his mind. He looked anywhere but Hank's eyes. What if he didn't like him anymore? What if he became scared of him? 

   "... Yeah?"

   "Sh-She... Made me shoot you..." And then silence stabbed through his entire being. He still stared down at the table as the seconds dragged by, getting worse and worse. Yup, Hank hated him now. His human was convinced he was gonna kill him. "I didn't... I-I didn't want to..." His voice sounded strained and he was just barely aware of the tears blurring his vision. 

   Emotions always screw everything up. 

   "Shit..." Hank muttered. "You're really bent up over this, huh?" Connor nodded. "D'you know what triggered it?"

   Connor gave a shrug, though he perfectly knew the answer why. "There were so many reminders of her everywhere I went. I spent the whole week checking my code over and over just to make sure she wasn't there."

   "And then last night happened, and you were convinced you'd made me eat lead."

   "Bullets aren't made out of lead anymore..."

   "Wow, even a smartass when you're miserable." Hank quipped. He sighed once he noticed that it hadn't amused Connor. "Hey, look at me."

   Connor looked up from the table, blinking tears from his eyes. Fuck, this guy could even make misery look good. 

   "I'm not mad or scared of you or anything. Fuck, you confessed your love for me two weeks ago through song. People don't do that anymore. No one's genuine like that." When Connor didn't say anything, he continued. "You're not gonna kill me. You're sitting here weeping over my death in a dream."

   "But what if she comes back...?"

   "It's been six and a half months. If she wanted me dead, and you back in her grubby hands, she'd've had plenty of opportunity to, already. Nothing's gonna happen, Con." Connor stayed silent again. "We should look into getting you some therapy, though. That sounds like some fucked up shit."

   Connor tilted his head to the side. "Shouldn't you go to therapy, too?"

  "Connor, you're basically my in-home therapist."

   "Fair point." He mused. "But a licensed professional would probably be better at it than me, and would also be able to prescribe you over-the-counter antidepressants."

   "Jesus, Connor, you're like a switch. One moment we're talking about me dyin', the next you're telling me to go to therapy."

   Connor sniffled. "Nagging you about your health makes me feel better."

   "Asshole." The android laughed a little. At this point, 'asshole' was more a term of endearment than an actual insult. Hank smiled as well, only further solidifying that. "Well, someone's gotta keep me in line. Could be worse people in the world to do that, I guess."

   "I'm insulted, Hank."

   "Go tell a therapist."

   "You  _wish_  it was that easy to get rid of me."

   "Come here, you goof."

   Connor did, indeed, go over there, and Hank stood from his seat before pulling Connor into a hug. He wasn't usually so liberal with affection, but... As mentioned before, that was some fucked up shit. And Connor definitely didn't seem to mind, wrapping his arms around Hank tightly and resting his head against his chest. Probably measuring his vitals, because it's Connor.

   "I love you, Hank."

   The android's voice was muffled by clothes and his arms, but he still caught it. He was pretty sure that was the first time Connor had said that outright. Maybe, maybe not. His memory always was shit. Couldn't even remember what he'd had for lunch yesterday (probably something healthy, because of Connor). It'd be rude not to return the favor.

   "I love you, too, Connor."

**Author's Note:**

> It's a common trope in this fandom for Connor to be like 'not on my Christian server' @ Amanda so I hopped on the bandwagon before it pulls away. Hopefully. 
> 
> The story and individual chapter titles were pulled straight from a Halsey song. 'Control', off the album 'Badlands'.
> 
> Uhhh I think I wrote this from like five in the morning until about three in the afternoon whoops
> 
> Remember if you liked this to please leave a comment and a kudos!! I don't get comments very often, so every one I see clears my skin, waters my crops, and cures my depression. Thanks.


End file.
